


Sea of Regrets and Blood

by PantheraIllustrations



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PantheraIllustrations/pseuds/PantheraIllustrations
Summary: The story is set in motion when Hoshigaki Kisame gets captured by the clan he was hired to spy on, and subsequently he and their battle commander, Kojiro, fall in love. When, some years later, he becomes a member of the Akatsuki his wife returns back to her clan where she gives birth soon after, naming the boy Shizuma and keeping the surname Hoshigaki. As Shizuma grows up he unsuccessfuly tries to overthrow the Sixth Mizukage, and Kojiro has to travel to the Hidden Mist to attend his trial and to help her son fix his mistakes. While being there she invites Sakura, Hinata and their children where she has a week to persuade them that her clan isn't as hostile as many people believe.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Sea of Regrets and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> In case the story seems all over the place then remember that if Kisame is the protagonist of a chapter, it's set in the past, if it's anyone else, it's in the present. I apologize in advance for the possible errors, typos, and the overall poor quality of the text; I'm not a good writer, but this thing has been pilling up for quite some time, and I need to get it out of my system.

A small seaside town was hauntingly silent thorough the night, only the occasional sound of heavy footsteps could be heard from the distance as the guards were on patrol, just like the solitary woman standing at a street corner, leaning against the cold stone wall, wrapped in a dark autumn cloak and slightly tugging on a bright blue cloth loosely tied around her neck; she seemed to be bored, blankly staring at the empty street hidden in thick mist and darkness, illuminated by nothing more than a single oil lamp placed by her feet.

All of a sudden she moved, crossbow in hand, faster than it would’ve been expected from someone looking so absent-minded a moment ago, aiming at the rooftop above her head; but there was nothing to be seen, even though she would’ve sworn she noticed something up there. She stood still for quite some time before she hid the weapon back under her cloak and continued the patrol. After she disappeared the mist on the roof swirled, briefly revealing a tall figure tiptoeing on the slate rooftiles, carefully looking around before every step if the guards were somewhere near.

As the figure reached the roof’s edge it stood there motionless, crouching on its position and searching for any suspicious movement, but it was impossible to see anything under these conditions. The figure slowly raised its arms to make a hand sign, causing the mist to thin a little. The visibility increased significantly, although that made the figure more distinguishable: it looked like an adult man dressed in dark clothing, with what could’ve been seen of his bare skin entirely covered in smeared black paint, his strange round eyes reflecting the light of the crescent moon before he peeked into the street below, wondering whether or not to leave his position and continue on the ground.

The guard’s action alarmed him; it seemed as if she was expecting someone there. He was aware that they may have been warned about his presence, and the amount of people patrolling around confirmed these concerns, but he was assured they neither know the full extent of his skills nor they posses abilities which may hinder the task. The man scowled in disgust, holding back a sigh; he believed he was overqualified for this mission, if only the people hiring his services didn’t pay so much to ensure a higher chance of success. He inspected the street beneath him: it was completely empty, no lights around, no movement behind the dark windows, no footsteps approaching. If he relocated down there he would be able to use the environment to better utilise his camouflage and to find hiding spots if he was in risk of being discovered, instead of being up in the open. After some brief calculations, he jumped.

He was still mid-air when the windows around him burst open. The glass panes were covered from the inside to conceal the bright light within, which now blinded the man as he prepared for impact. Despite this unexpected inconvenience he landed without problems, got up on his feet immediately and prepared for combat. He wasn’t able to see his opponents yet, only to hear them landing on the pavement near him and moving to their positions. He heard someone approaching from behind and he drew his sword to defend himself, but the guard pulled back and another lunged forward. The intruder turned quickly towards him, blocked the attack and punched him in the gut with his empty hand with such force he threw his opponent against the wall.

When his eyes got used to the light he could see them more clearly: six guards, including the one he just disarmed, dressed in red jackets and ready to fight, and when he glanced up he spotted three more people aiming arrows at him. Even if he managed to take down half of them he would still be outnumbered and probably shot down on the spot. The intruder shifted his attention to the largest member of the group, but he was still being aware of the other soldiers around him, who were now murmuring to each other in their strange accent, making it hard for him to understand what they’re talking about.

“I will not surrender without a fight. None of you has to die tonight. Just step aside and…”

The guards fell silent as he spoke, but the big man interrupted him with a loud chuckle.

“Big words comin’ from a boy, especially one so far from home.”

His voice was loud and deep, his carefree attitude contrasting to the tension everyone else felt in the moment. He stood there towering over his soldiers, the red jacket stretching over his massive shoulders, with the sleeves rolled up to make space for the blue cloths wrapped around his tanned forearms, his large hands grasping tightly the handle of his axe, big enough to behead a man in one swing. The guards occasionally glanced in his direction, as if expecting orders, and the intruder thought that this must be Kojiro Yatonokami, the leader he heard so much about. He barred his teeth at him, sharp and glistening in the light, and proposed a challenge.

“If you value the lives of your men, Kojiro, then fight me. If I win I’m free to go.”

The man raised his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side.

“What if y’ loose?”

“Then it doesn’t matter.”

To his surprise it was a different voice that answered.

“Deal!”

He realised he was mistaken about the leader’s identity a moment before their swords clashed. Kojiro was younger, shorter and leaner than him, but undeniably strong and there was cold resolution in his grey eyes as he attacked again, this time with his other hand. As the intruder dodged the strike he took a quick look at those weapons: Kojiro fought with two blades, shorter than his sword, slightly curved and seemingly heavier, but he swung them with the ease and precision of an experienced swordfighter. He didn’t get much time to think about a strategy as Kojiro striked again and kept attacking at such speed that he haven’t got the chance to either strike back or use ninjutsu, so he kept blocking and dodging while moving around in circles. Both warriors moved so fast that the only thing the others could see were the flashes of light reflecting from their swords as they fought seemingly without tiring themselves out, although Kojiro’s jacket was stained with sweat and his opponent was starting to breathe heavily, but none of them drew blood yet.

The intruder cautiously studied every move, searching for an opportunity to finish the fight, and his patience paid of when an impact of their collision threw Kojiro off balance. The blow to the chest, otherwise deadly, cut through the jacket as he managed to dodge it in time, but the blade got caught by something underneath the fabric and as they both pulled back the sword slipped from its owner’s hands. Before the disarmed man could to do anything else, Kojiro punched him in the chest, throwing him to the ground where he hit his head; he didn’t get back up after that.

The guards let out a sigh of relief in unison, except the grey-eyed warrior who instead approached the man to inspect him, but the camouflage paint unevenly smeared all over his skin was covering any distinctive features, so the he had to squat down in order to take a better look at his face.

“Be careful.” the large guard said.

Kojiro ignored the warning, eager to investigate further regardless of the possible danger. One of the guards lowered a lantern.

Paint was covering the metal plate of the man’s headband as well. Kojiro took it off and scratched the plate with a knife, revealing the emblem underneath.

“’S dat… ‘s it de Hidden Mist emblem?” asked an older looking guard.

The rest of them stared at the item in awe as they passed it to one another; they all have heard that the rival clan have hired a shinobi to infiltrate their island, but until that moment it was only an unconfirmed rumour. As Kojiro pondered over the possible significance of this discovery, one of the men spoke up.

“What de fuck ‘s wrong with his skin?”

On the intruder’s forehead where the headband’s fabric brushed off the paint a patch of clear skin was visible, and at first glance it seemed kind of strange.

“Bring me some water.”

Kojiro laid the man on his back and, rather gently, raised his head slightly above the ground, then carefully wiped away the remaining paint that water alone couldn’t wash off. The man seemed to be in his twenties, just around Kojiro’s age, with three scar-like stripes on his cheekbones. But the most distinct characteristic was his skin, which had Kojiro staring at his face in evident surprise.

“He… he’s blue!”

After hearing that the guards immediately took a step back and raised their hands to touch whatever blue piece of clothing or jewellery they had on them, some even muttered a protective prayer whilst clutching their amulets.

“Kojiro?” the large man approached them, “What will we do now?”


End file.
